"I'm a monster!" he thought; but his relief was so great, so cruel, that the very word "monster" seemed farcical, almost amusing. However, after a few minutes he was really shocked at himself.
"She's dying; and it's I who have killed her. She's dying of fear, remorse, suffering. I saw her sink down that day, with her eyes full of despair. My words hurt her worse than a blow. What a lurid thing is the human heart! I'm rejoicing in my crime; I'm rejoicing like a prisoner who has gained his freedom by murdering his gaoler, while I'm thinking Margherita despicable, because she says bluntly that she can't love a bad woman. I am far worse, a hundred times worse than Margherita. But can I alter my feelings? What whirlwind of contradictions, what malign force is it that draws and contorts the human soul? Why can we not overcome this force even when we recognize and hate it? The God which governs the universe is Evil! a monstrous God, living in us as the thunderbolt lives in the air, ready to burst forth at any moment. And that infernal power which oppresses and derides us—Good Lord! perhaps it will make the poor wretch better and entirely cure her, to punish me for rejoicing at the expectation of her death!"
This idea depressed him for some moments, and he felt the horror of his depression as he had felt the horror of his joy, but was powerless to conquer it.
Sunset enfolded him as he ascended from Mamojada to Fonni; great peace overspread the rose-tinted landscape. The shadows, lengthening on the golden carpet of the stubble, suggested persons asleep, and the glowing mountains blended with the glowing sky, in which the moon already showed its shell of pearl. Anania felt his heart softening. His spirit raised itself towards the pure and mystic heaven.
"Once I imagined I was kind-hearted," he thought; "delusion—mere delusion. I exalted myself when I thought of her, and when I thought of Margherita too. I fancied I loved my mother, and could redeem her, and thus make my existence some use. Instead of that, I have killed her! What must I do now? How shall I use my freedom, my miserable tranquillity? I shall never be happy again. I shall never again believe in myself or in any one else. Now truly I know what man is—a vain though fiery flame, which passes over life and reduces everything to ashes, and goes out when there is nothing left for it to destroy."
As he ascended, the marvel of the sunset increased; he stopped his horse that he might contemplate what seemed a symbolic picture. The mountains had become violet; a long cloud of the same colour made a darkness above the horizon; between the mountains and the cloud a great sun, rayless and blood-red was going down in a heaven of gold. At that moment, he knew not why, Anania felt good; good, but sorrowful. He had arrived at sincerely desiring his mother's recovery. He felt a measureless pity for her; and the beautiful childish dream of a life of sacrifice dedicated to the unhappy one's redemption, shone in his soul, great and terrible like that dying sun. But suddenly he perceived that this dream was only for his own comfort; and he compared his belated generosity to a rainbow curved over a country devastated by storm; it was splendid, but altogether useless.
"What shall I do?" he repeated in new despair, "I shall love no more, I shall believe no more. The romance of my life is ended; ended at twenty-two, the age when most men are beginning theirs!"
When he reached Fonni it was already night. The outline of the tiled roofs showed black against the stainless moonlit sky. The air was perfumed and very fresh. The tinkle of the goats returning from pasture, could be heard, the step of the herdsman's horse, the bark of his dogs. Anania thought of Zuanne and of his distant childhood, more tenderly than when he had been at Fonni a few days ago.
He dismounted at the widow's door, inquisitive heads appeared at the windows, the low doors, the wooden balconies of the opposite houses. He seemed expected, a mysterious whisper ran around, and he felt himself wrapped in it, straitened as by a cold and heavy chain.
"She must be dead!" he thought, and stood motionless beside his horse.